


Crazy Running Forward

by Seafire



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Barebacking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, M/M, Minor Violence, Rape/Non-con Elements, Snark, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 01:26:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seafire/pseuds/Seafire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael and Victor run away to Cuba, AU from end of Season 2.  Non-con isn't really rape, it's just Victor being Victor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crazy Running Forward

**Author's Note:**

> This was written such a long time ago when there were no fics for this pairing. I thought that I was the only one who thought they should have run off to Cuba together. It would have been nice to know I wasn't the only one who thought of this fix-it before I wrote the damn thing.

 

             All the white sandy beaches of Cuba couldn't really take away the fact that Michael had decided to settle down with a psycho. The problem with running away with Victor was that even with Carla dead, and his revenge fulfilled, he was still kind of a crazy bastard. 

             Michael knew it when they retrieved the sniper rifle, standing together that night _crazy hands and bright eyes_.  He knew it when Victor ambushed him at the storage locker, looking through the fence _shark grin and bloodlust_.  But Michael really knew it when Victor pressed a sad, sweet kiss to the side of his mouth, one hand on the shallow, bloody groove on his ribs and the other hand steadying Michael’s gun over his heart.

             He was crazy, crazy, crazy, and every bit as right when he told Michael to kill him and use his body as a bargaining chip.  Michael knew he was crazy himself when he took his gun off Victor’s chest, left the file on the table and crouched next to the door, gun ready.            Of course both Michael and Victor’s crazy was no match for _Fiona’s_ crazy, which approached art as she punched a hole in Carla with her rifle, then turned and launched a bomb at the helicopter and the management inside.  In the coming weeks, he would remind himself that no matter how crazy he thought he or Victor was, Fiona would always be able to teach them a thing or two.  

            At the time, running on the power of experience, instinct, and Fiona’s beautiful destruction, he cast off and ran the boat out of the harbor.  He watched Sam bodily pick up the 90 pound goddess of death and pitch her into the SUV, jumping in behind her and running away as fast as Michael. He found himself wishing he could kiss her, and taste the smoke and ash on her tongue.  It wasn’t until they were four hours out on the water that Michael remembered the kiss that _had_ happened.  

            Another four hours later, after he was sure no one was following; he dropped the anchor and went to find Victor.  The other spy was at the stern, bandaged, depressed, and looking very uncrazy, though Michael knew better.  He set a fresh beer next to Victor’s empty one, and opened his own.  He assessed the other man as he drank before deciding that Victor probably wasn’t going to snap, and so, despite Michael’s overworked nerves screaming at him, he settled down next to Victor, shoulders barely touching.

            Both men were quiet, but as the silence drew on, Victor shifted, and Michael could feel him opening his mouth to make a smartass comment, and decided to beat him to it.

            “Hey—” 

            “Did you want me to kill you?”

            Michael’s flat voice cut though whatever deflective line Victor had been about to use.  The other man’s smile slipped only briefly as he turned away and sipped his beer.

            Michael looked straight at him, face blank.   “We’re not done.  That wasn’t even close to all of them.  You said you wanted to gut the organization.  Were you going to die when we weren’t even done?”  This time Victor’s smile didn’t so much slip as crash. 

            “Carla was dead; it was good enough for me.”  He took another drink, and in the faint light, Michael could see the tear tracts on his face.  Michael said nothing.

            They were silent and still until the sea wind rippled a wave of cold across him, and he got up, pulling Victor up with him.  As the bigger man stood up, Michael could see that there were a lot more bottles on the other side of him.

            “Are you drunk?”

            “No way, sport.  Just a little buzzed.”

            “Seven beers does not look like slightly buzzed.”

            “Come on, don’t give me that look,” Victor said, at Michael’s flat lipped frown.

            “We’re kind of running for our lives here, I could have used some backup.”  Michael lugged the other man a few more feet.

            “Hey, I was bleeding.  Besides, aren’t you supposed to protect me, big guy?”

            “Yeah, that’s not how it works in your case.  Less drinking, more watching our backs.” 

            Michael stumbled under Victor’s suddenly listless weight.  “It’s not like I didn’t have a good reason to celebrate.”

            Something in the other spy’s sad, mumbled voice made Michael steer him into the cabin a bit faster.  Victor slumped onto the bed and started pulling at his shirt, while Michael looked around for a couch or at least another blanket. 

            “Stop being a baby, Westen.  Just sleep here.  I’m not going to smother you with a pillow.”

            Michael made a face at Victor’s back as the other man moved over and faced the wall.  He put the gun down on the table next to the bed and took off his coat and shirt.  He settled down next to Victor and the two lay tense and still, back to back.  For all the teamwork and life saving they had done in the past 24 hours, it was still strange to be lying in bed with a man that had tried to kill you.  Even with their history of attempted murder, when Victor started to shake in silent sobs, Michael wished he knew how to comfort him.  He settled for pressing his back against Victor’s, feeling the other man’s bare skin though his undershirt.  The last thing he remembered before falling asleep was wondering if this kind of crazy was contagious, and when he’d caught it from Victor.

            Like all spies, Michael was a light sleeper, and he woke up every few hours as Victor shifted to take pressure off his bandaged side, or cried silently with his arm over his face.  None of this made Michael do more than press against Victor as he cried.

            They were so similar; crazy, burned spies, tired of running, tired of the game, and Michael wasn’t surprised when close to dawn, Victor shifted around with a purpose to lie on his side facing him.  The other man ran a hand down Michael’s side in a rough caress that made Michael hiss and arch into it.  Victor’s hand came back the other way, running under Michael’s thin shirt.  The touch was rough, wild, and everything Michael wanted.  It was still dark, and Michael let Victor take what he needed in the false light of dawn.

            There was little foreplay for them.  Neither had the emotion left for more than firm touches and hasty use of the lotion found under the bed.  Victor’s cock was hard and heavy inside Michael, and he felt a part of himself relax as the other man pounded into him.  Right now they were safe, for today at least, they’d won, and none of his walls, defenses, spy skills, or poker faces were needed for at least the next twenty minutes.  Michael let it all go just as Victor began to strike his sweet spot, and the spy didn’t bother to stop the needy groans that came out of him.  Victor eyes widened at the noises his partner was making, and shoved Michael’s legs apart further so he could fuck the other man harder.  

            Michael was letting every noise free, and Victor was reacting to his abandon, his thrusting getting deeper and wilder.  Victor got his hands under Michael’s ass, pulling him up for his cock, and Michael felt his mind dissolve into white and he shook against Victor as he came.   Victor gasped as Michael’s cum splashed his belly and his ass clenched around his cock, and all it took was three short thrusts before Victor spilled inside of Michael.

            For a minute after, they stayed in their positions and breathed.  Michael’s legs were splayed out on either side of Victor’s hips, one of the man’s hands still on his ass, the other supporting them.   He felt Victor’s arms tremble before he pulled his wet cock out of Michael and sank down beside him.

            They reached Cuba the next day, not talking, and holed up on a remote beach property under the name of Victor’s fictional, deceased uncle.  They didn’t let people see them, and the paranoid bastard in each of them made them set up a perimeter, and filled the area with traps.   Deprived of his sport jackets, Michael finally got a tan while Victor learned how to fish.   They raided the nearby town for food, lived off of Victor’s stock of safe house amenities, and slept in the same bed.  

            The downtime was actually pretty good, and he forgot just how crazy Victor was.   He was reminded one hot night when the heat drove him into the ocean one last time before heading to bed.  He hauled himself out of the water, and walked by Victor drinking a beer on the porch.   The other man followed him back into the house, and when Michael stripped off his wet shorts, Victor forced him down onto the bed and pushed his slicked erection into him.   Michael was wet and still relaxed from his swim, and Victor went inside him with only minor resistance.

            Michael spent a blank moment wondering when exactly he’d let down that much of his guard around the other man.   He came back into the world a split second after Victor started thrusting slowly into him, and he growled and jammed his elbow back towards the other man’s face.  Victor dodged, and slammed Michael’s arm back onto the bed before putting his hands on his shoulders and pushing Michael into the bed with his weight, raping him gently.  

            Michael bucked angrily. “ _Victor_ what the _fuck_ are you doing?”

            “So, I’ve been thinking,” Victor said conversationally, slowly pushing his hips against Michael’s ass.  “We’re essentially the only two people in each other’s lives right now, and since I’m feeling a lot better, we should really get to know each other a little more.”

            Michael growled.  “Oh, so you’re feeling better, huh?  That’s great, Victor.”  He turned his face back towards him.  “You still cry at night,” he said in a low voice.  Victor stilled.   “I wake up in the middle of the night.  You still cry, and right now you’re just hot and horny.”

            Victor sighed, but leaned forward and bit Michael’s neck.   “I know.  But I think I like you.  And I know you aren’t as pissed off right now as you say.”

            “That’s unlikely,” Michael snarled.

            Victor reached under him to awkwardly caress his half hard cock.

            “Huh.  Look at that, Michael.”

            “Victor, get the fuck off of me.”

            “I’m sorry, I thought I heard: Victor, get me off, fuck me.”   The other man laughed and started thrusting again, moving faster and harder.  

            Spies travel around all kinds of countries, some of them not so pleasant.  When you’ve had to be a witness to atrocities in order to keep your cover, you make sure that when you actually have the chance to stop it, you do.

            Michael had never been raped.  He’d seen it, heard it, and always found it angering and disgusting.   He knew that he was every kind of crazy when he found himself enjoying this.  His mind told him to shift just so, break Victor’s hold on him, grab the gun on the night stand, and shoot the man in the face.  

            But he could feel his cock getting hard, and his hips starting to move back against the other spy in needy movements.  Victor made a broken noise as Michael started to get into it, and took his hands off the other man’s shoulders to brace himself as he pounded into him.

            Now that they’d really started, Michael could feel that Victor wasn’t going to last long.  He’d just gotten fully hard when Victor shuddered and he felt a warm rush inside him.  Michael ground his hips into the bed and contemplated finishing himself off or making Victor do it.   After a second Victor pulled out and slapped his hip.

            “Come on, turn over, sport.”

            Michael had just decided to snap the other man’s neck and masturbate in peace, when Victor rolled him over and slid all of Michael’s cock down his throat.   He yelled and came embarrassingly quickly.   It had been a while since he’d had that done for him.

            Victor looked up at him, grinning.  Michael glared back.   

            “I hope you enjoyed doing that, because I’m going to pull that crazy out through the hole I’m about to put in your head,” Michael said in a pleasantly dangerous tone.

            Victor mock pouted at him.  “Michael, did you really think I didn’t have a contingency plan?  The gun’s not in the nightstand, the knife isn’t under the pillow, you’re a little too sore to chase me, and I figure you’re still riding that afterglow from _when you came in my mouth_.”

            Victor made a kissing noise at Michael’s silent glare and pulled himself higher on the bed to lie down next to him.

            Michael turned his head to frown at him.  “Victor, here’s a tip, when you like someone, it’s a good idea to ask first.”

            The other man just smiled his crazy smile that was designed solely to fuck with Michael.  “I figured you’d tell me if you didn’t want to.”

            “I _did_ tell you.”

            “Michael, you’ve cracked my head open on a bathroom sink.  If you tell me you don’t want to fuck, I’m going to need something a little more firm than one punch and a pathetic escape attempt.”

            “And which one of your voices told you this would be a good idea?”

            “The smart one,” Victor said, grinning. “Come on, Michael. Don’t tell me you won’t want to do that again.” 

            Michael frowned at him.  “Look, the first time…that was something else.  This time you were just bored and hot, and a little fucked in the head.”

            Victor shifted a little.  “I’m not a psycho.”

            “Yes, you are.”

            “Okay, so I’m a little crazy, so are you.  But it’s not like I wanted to hurt you—”

            “You tried to kill me with a chair.”

            “That was like, two weeks ago.”

            “And I hold grudges.”

            “You can’t tell me you didn’t like it.”

            “Being attacked with a chair?  Because, I _can_.”

            “I meant what we _just_ did, big guy.”

            “You did notice when I tried to bash your face in.”

            “I do remember your little escape attempt.  It was pretty sad for someone of your talents, Michael.   Maybe you’re getting soft.”  Victor grinned as he reached over and slapped the other man’s hip.

            Michael was very still for a moment, a deep frown on his face, before he rolled over quick as crazy and started to strangle the other man.  Victor made a surprised “gurk” kind of noise and then looked down curiously at the hands on his neck.

            “Okay, so we’re doing this now.  Michael, _really_.  You save me, don’t shoot me, and now you’re going strangle me after really great seggkk—” 

            Victor was interrupted by Michael’s sudden extra leverage as he got onto his knees.   Now in actual danger, Victor responded by punching the other man in the kidney.  Michael grunted and let go of Victor’s throat to punch him in the face.   Victor rolled them over trying to get a grip on Michael, but the other spy kept them going and knocked Victor’s head against the nightstand.   The bigger man grit his teeth against the pain and reached out to brutally twist Michael’s nipple.  Michael yelped and smashed Victor’s hand against the headboard, only to topple backwards as Victor punched him in the stomach.

            As spies, they knew plenty of dirty tricks; each one was trying to out maneuver the other, a frenzy of jabbing elbows and bruised organs.  Victor was stronger, but Michael was quicker, and at the end of it he was straddling the other man again, hands back on his throat but not really applying pressure.

            Breathing heavily, Victor grinned up at him.  “Come on, Michael, if you didn’t have me around, you’d go crazy.”

            “Victor. _Because_ you’re around, I’ve _already gone crazy_.”

            “It’s not so bad, is it? Hang out on the beach, try not to go soft, and keep each other company while we wait to crush those sons of bitches and get our lives back.”

            Michael looked down, vaguely surprised at the strong determination in Victor’s eyes.  He hadn’t ever seen anything from him but craziness, pain, and fake amusement.  It made Michael remember he needed a plan.  He looked at Victor, really looked at him, and maybe saw a glimpse of what he was.

            “What life are you trying to get back?”  Michael asked in a low voice.  Victor’s eyes flickered in warning, but Michael moved his hands to settle warmly on his shoulders. 

            “I’m not asking to be mean,” he said, thumbs stroking over Victor’s collarbone.  “What are you trying to do?”

            Victor’s poker face grin came back.  “I could ask you the same question.”

            Michael wasn’t about to start trusting Victor now and he kept a firm grip on his shoulders.  “I’m going to take down whoever these people are, that’s what I’m doing,” Michael said.

            “And then what?  You go back to being a spy?  If you weren’t already on everybody’s shit list, you’re _going_ to be after we gut whoever this group is.   We’re risks, Michael.  We’ve gone way off mission, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”  Victor looked straight at him.  “So would you.  It’s too late for us.  You’ve caught that special kind of crazy you get when you’ve lost everything.”

            “The only thing I lost was my job.  I still have people I care about, and I’ll go back to them.”  Michael’s fingers tightened, voice flat.

            Victor looked up at him with familiar eyes.   “I wonder what would have happened if I’d known you when I lost my family.  Would Michael Westen have saved me then?”

            Michael looked away.  “No.  I would have told you to look somewhere else.”

            “And now you’re lying in bed with someone you rescued after they tried to kill you.”

            Michael snorted and let go of his shoulders.  “You’ve met Fiona, right?”

            “Nice deflect, big guy.  The point is, you’ve changed.  You go on an op now, and when you run into some sob story you’ll end up blowing it to save the little guy.”  Victor pushed himself onto his elbows.  “Like you did with me.”

            Michael stated steadily at Victor.  “You think I should keep doing my side job.  I was just doing jobs to make money and figure out who burned me.”

            Victor rolled his eyes.  “And when we get back, you’ll keep on playing Robin Hood until we find them.”

            “I didn’t want to do that for life.”

            “Being a spy isn’t a lifelong job either.  Robin Michael would probably live longer.”

            Michael shifted, thinking of Sam and Fiona.  “And what about you?  When we get back, what are you going to do, slink into the cracks?  Go on a suicide mission to gut them in a blaze of glory?  Were you even planning on surviving taking them down?”

            “Were you?”  Victor shot back.  “That’s a little naïve, Michael.”  He looked up at him with the pain back in his eyes.  “You know they’ll kill us, kill your friends.  I figure I’ve just already got a head start.” 

            Even if Victor was damn good at lying, even if he was good at pushing it down when needed, at this distance he couldn’t hide the flash of sadness that went across his face.  Michael looked at him silently, waiting for Victor to put his mask back on.  He wanted to see if he could knock it off.

            “Then it was pretty stupid to start liking me.”

            Instead of giving him the irritated or snarky response he was expecting, Victor gave him the closest thing to a real smile Michael had ever seen on the psycho.   

            Victor ran his hands down Michael’s legs.  “We won’t survive taking this organization down.  We can go after the head and die, or kill an arm and live happily ever after…until they send someone to _kill us_.  Either way we’re dead or running.”   Victor was speaking firmly but softly, and Michael didn’t tell him he was wrong.  “ _So_ , I figure that I get to like someone as long as they’re as screwed and crazy as I am.”

            Michael quirked his lips slightly.  “Crazy, huh?  What makes you think I like the crazy ones?”

            “You’ve met Fiona, right?”  Victor smirked at him.

            Michael rolled his eyes up, but didn’t tell Victor he was wrong about this either.  Argument over, answer more or less found, Michael started to get off Victor.  He was stopped by a hand clamped on to his arm.

            “Tell me you have a plan.”  Victor’s voice was not pleading or desperate, but there was the smallest whisper of wished hope.  “Michael Westen always has a plan.”

            Michael looked down at the other man and wondered why people loved him.   His mom, Nate, Sam…Fiona, they all looked to him for the plan, and he’d get them all killed one day.  But they still loved him, and they still looked at him like this.

            “We’ll give it some time, Victor.  Lay low, start talking to Fiona and Sam.  We’ll go back and we’ll figure out what to do.  I’ll get a plan.”   He leaned down into Victor’s face.  “ _And I’m not planning on dying_.”

            Victor looked back at him with his crazy, pained eyes.  “That’s all very Lifetime, Michael, but how is that going to work?”

            “Shut up.  First thing, we didn’t survive all these years by giving up.  I have important people to protect, and I’m only going to be able to do that while I’m alive and shooting.  You’re in the same position, so stop trying to die on me.”

            Victor looked confused.   “You have family, friends, and a girlfriend.  When the hell did I get loved ones?”

            Michael looked down at him, naked and covered in cum.

            Victor stared at him until he got it.  “Oh, come on.  That was just sex.”

            “You tried to kill me,” Michael stated, crossing his arms to make a point.

            The other man squinted.  “What, just now?”  Victor blinked, then rolled his eyes.  “Oh, you mean like with the chair.  You know, you really need to get over that already.  Besides, you tried to kill me, too.”

            “Do you usually sleep with people who try to kill you?”

            “No, but you seem to.”

            Michael smiled.  “So, really, I’m the crazy one here.”

            “Looks like it to me, big guy.”   Victor flexed his hands on Michael’s calves.

            “But you like me, even though I’m crazy and tried to kill you.”

            “Yeah.”  Victor smiled back at him.

            “I just wanted that clear.  Me too.”

            “What?”

            “I tazered you, bashed your head on a sink, then locked you in a box.  So you’re either very crazy or you like me a lot.”

            Victor pushed his head against the pillow.  “Michael, I’m pretty sure it’s both.”

            “Yeah, like I said: Me too.”

            Victor lifted his head to look at Michael and smiled again.  Michael smiled back, and since his knees were starting to ache, he sank down to kiss another one of his group of important people and wondered how Fiona was going to take the idea of another crazy, trigger happy bedmate.

            That night Victor didn’t cry, because he’d finally caught _Michael’s_ crazy, and he was strong enough to save the world.

 

           

END

 

           

             


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